Matt de la Peña - The Living

“I don’t get it,” Shy said.

“Most women get caught off guard when they’re proposed to,” Mr. Henry said. He coughed into a fist. “They look back after the fact and wish they were wearing a different dress. Or they wish they’d been wearing makeup. Silly things. We joked about this a few times. So when I told her to wear the pearls, she understood what it meant.”

“She knew you had a ring and everything?”

The man shrugged. “But I saw the look in her eyes when I left her cabin that afternoon. She wasn’t ever coming to dinner.”

Shy had no idea how to respond to this, so he told the man: “You don’t know that. She was probably just doing her makeup, like you said.”

Mr. Henry shook his head. “I know.”

Shy watched him lean his head back against the side and close his eyes, his fingers still touching around his wound. It didn’t seem fair that a guy who got stood up would also get bitten by a shark. But then nothing about the last few days was fair.

By morning Shy’s stomach was cramping, and he felt weak. He was so cold he couldn’t stop shivering, but he knew by the afternoon the sun would be beating down on them relentlessly. His lips were cracked and swollen from the day before, his face so sunburned it felt tight and stung in the salty air. Tiny sores had started popping up on his arms and legs and feet, and his skin was covered in a strange film.

For the first few hours of the day, the oilman slept and Addison shivered in her corner and remained silent. Shy tried to think of a plan. They couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. The movement of the sun told him which direction was east, but what was he going to do, row them all the way back to California? It would probably take a damn year with his one stupid oar. He’d start them toward the islands everyone kept talking about, but he had no idea which direction they were.

When he grew overwhelmed by the hopelessness of their situation, he started watching Addison, remembering how weird she’d acted on the Honeymoon Deck during the storm.

A few hours later, Addison leaned over the side of the boat and said: “God, why won’t they leave us alone?”

These were the first words she’d spoken on the lifeboat. Shy knew she was talking about the two sharks still hovering around the boat, but he took it as an opening to bring up what was on his mind. “Why’d your old man have a picture of me?”

Addison turned and looked at him.

“ ’Cause that’s what you said, right? When you were out there in the storm with your binoculars.”

No answer.

Shy shook his head. “You wanted to know who I am—shit, who are you ? And who’s your dad?”

Addison’s face crinkled up and she covered her face with her hands and started crying.

Seeing this made Shy lose his edge. He always caved when he saw a girl cry. “It’s just a question,” he told her, softening his tone. “Seems messed up to tell me your old man has a picture of me and then—”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Addison shouted at him through her sobs. “I just watched my best friend die! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

Shy startled. He hadn’t expected her to get all psychotic on him.

“And I don’t know where my dad is!” Addison screamed. “He could be dead, too! And you want to talk to me about your stupid picture?”

“Jesus, calm down,” Shy said, rubbing his sore ribs. “All I did was ask a simple question, damn.”

Addison buried her face in her hands again and sobbed so loud Shy felt like an asshole. Maybe that’s exactly what he was. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up out here because nothing from the real world mattered anymore.

“Give it time,” Mr. Henry said.

Shy turned to look at the oilman, who was staring back at Shy.

“I don’t know what you all are talking about,” he said, “but whatever it is, just give it some time.”

Shy hung his head and inspected the sores on his bare foot, mumbling to himself: “Man, none of us have any time.”

They all hid from the sun once it was directly overhead. Addison sat underneath Shy’s slicker. Mr. Henry was covered by the tarp. Shy had taken off his life jacket and draped his shirt over his head and shoulders. He’d had enough of just sitting around and waiting, though. He needed to do something. Now.

He stood up and announced: “We need food and water. And we need to get to those islands.”

Addison and Mr. Henry watched him pull the fishing kit out of the supply cabinet. He had no idea how they were going to get water—there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so rain definitely wasn’t in the forecast—but he could at least try and catch a damn fish.

“That’s real smart,” Addison said sarcastically.

“What?” Shy said, turning to face her.

“Not wearing a life jacket.” Addison looked away, shaking her head at him in disgust.

Shy stood there, staring. “What are you trying to say? You care if I drown?”

“No,” Addison scoffed. “Do whatever you want. All I’m saying is it’s stupid. Which isn’t a big surprise, I guess.”

Shy had no idea how to deal with a girl like this. In the normal world he’d probably flip her off and walk away. He’d never even try to interact with some spoiled-ass blond chick. He didn’t want to get into another fight, though, so all he could think to do was shrug and turn his attention back to the fishing gear.

“What islands are you talking about?” Mr. Henry asked from under his tarp.

It was good to hear the oilman’s voice. Anytime he went quiet for a long stretch, Shy was afraid he’d find the guy dead. “Ask her,” Shy answered, motioning toward Addison. “It’s her old man who supposedly works there.”

“That’s right, my dad does,” she said. “Not me. I’ve never even been there.”

“What’s he do, anyways?” Shy said. “What kind of job is way out here in the middle of the ocean?”

“I’m his daughter, God,” Addison said, “not his business consultant.”

“Hold up,” Shy said, unable to help himself, “you don’t even know what your own dad does for work?”

“You probably don’t even have a dad,” Addison fired back. “Doesn’t everyone like you grow up with a single mom?”

Shy just stared at her, amazed at what a bitch she was.

“What?” she said.

He shook his head, told her: “Nah, that shit’s too ignorant to even comment on.” He turned away from her all pissed off now, and broke open the pack of fishing lines and bait. He couldn’t believe he was stranded out here with a damn racist.

It was quiet on the boat for a few minutes, then Addison cleared her throat and said: “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Shy ignored her.

Guys where she was from probably put up with her bitchy attitude because she looked good. But Shy wasn’t playing that game. Anyway, she wasn’t even that hot right now. She was as disheveled-looking as anyone would be who survived a sinking ship and got stuck on a broke-ass boat.

“Fine,” Addison said. “Don’t accept my apology. Like I give a shit.”

Shy just shook his head as he put his life jacket back on. The girl had some serious emotional problems.

It didn’t take him long to bait the line and cast it over the side of the boat. There was a school of colorful fish nearby. He tried to will them to his hook, but they didn’t even seem to notice. So he sat there, waiting, thinking about Carmen and how much cooler she was than other girls. Especially this girl. And then he started thinking about back home.

Occasionally, he would reel in his line and recast it. Hoping it would do something. But it never did.